“How do you identify?” This is probably my least favorite question to answer when someone asks me about my gender. There are all types of ways a person can answer this question, and everyone is different. I know some folks who embrace identity labels and other folks who refuse to use them. But at some level within ourselves, we are looking for an answer to these questions – who am I, how do I see myself, and how do I want others to see me?
Last year, when I first began researching why I felt so conflicted about my gender (female assigned at birth), I became aware of new ways to describe one’s identity that I had not heard of. I was familiar with the term transgender, but had limited knowledge of genderqueer, FTM, transmasculine, neutrois, etc. As I read more, I started to feel conflicted. Which one was me? I knew I did not identify as fully female despite having been born into a biological female body. Did any of these identities apply to me? What if I felt like I had a bit of all of them? It seemed that the more I learned, the more frustrated I felt at being unable to come up with a single term, or label, for my identity. I watched others around me seemingly settle onto a description of themselves, but I kept fluctuating. The unanswered question of my identity began to cause me anxiety.
What if I never find an identity that fully describes me?
This possibility – of never really settling onto a concept of self – has caused me to be uncomfortable, not only because in some ways I feel unsettled within myself, but more so because those in my life seem to demand an answer to the question of my identity. I understand that I don’t owe anybody an explanation of myself. It’s my business and mine alone, and who I choose to share that piece of my life with is entirely up to me. But I can’t lie – sometimes I feel it would be easier for me personally if I could just settle on a label and stick with it. But just when I think I’m settling on to something, a nagging feeling inside brings the question up again – are you sure?
Part of my reluctance to choose a label – transgender, ftm, male, queer, gender variant, etc– is the feeling that once I subscribe to a label I no longer have control over the path this sends me down (I think I’m starting to sound like a bit of a control freak). I guess what I mean is, I hate feeling that somebody can pop into Google whatever term I tell them I identity as and they can pull up a host of articles describing what someone ‘like me’ should look, act, or feel like. I also feel that one’s identity is not static, it changes over time. I may feel one way now, but I reserve the right to change my mind in the future. Explaining to people this evolving identity in my mind is a challenge. I have found that it is hard to get people who are unfamiliar with gender minorities to understand identities outside of the gender binary. An increasing number of folks are familiar with the term transgender, but I have yet to find someone familiar with the term genderqueer who did not already have a solid background in gender minorities.
I Can Only Be the Change I Wish to See
Not everything is a war inside my head though. There are some things that I know with great certainty about myself, and these things don’t fluctuate. First, I am not comfortable being read as female. I am completely uncomfortable with female pronouns. When I am referred to as “daughter”, “ma’am” or ‘she,” an internal buzzer goes off inside my head that yells – hey, watch your mouth, I’m not female! I am not sure what causes this reaction other than to say I want to be read and treated as male, and being read and treated as female in social settings causes me a lot of internal conflict. I don’t see myself as a girl, but everyone else seems to, so I feel in a constant state of conflict.
Second, I am completely uncomfortable with wearing any type of feminine clothing. I would rather wear a blanket than wear any type of feminine clothing. Dresses and skirts have made me so uncomfortable since preschool age that my parents gave up their effort early on to have me wear something other than boy shorts and tees. Obviously I recognize that feminine clothing does not necessarily equate to feminine identity- but for me, my truth is that any type of feminine flair in my own personal clothing or gender presentation makes me completely uncomfortable.
Third, the parts of my body that give me away as biologically female cause me dysphoria. In particular, my voice, chest, facial structure, and fat distribution (hips). I find myself longing, needing, to have the traits of a male or masculine body. Since puberty I have had some facial hair – a light mustache and a decent amount of chin hair, thanks genetics! – but I have a deep desire to increase my body hair (everywhere). I weight lift with an emphasis on upper body strength in an attempt to create a more male appearing body. I always wear a binder, or if unable, a tight sports bra. I dream daily of having a male chest.
All that aside, I do not experience ‘bottom’ dysphoria, and have zero desire to have bottom surgery. I also recognize that I have some feminine aspects to my personality and I enjoy these – I am a communicator, I am sensitive, I am nurturing. I was raised and socialized to be female so I have a lot of experience working and living with others in that role. I understand female social circles and friendships and feel comfortable in them. I have great respect for the women in my life and I am not blind to male privilege. I feel I can relate to those who struggle against the patriarchy. Because I identified as female for the vast majority of my relatively young life, I have a hard time saying that I don’t have any parts of my self that are female. However, despite recognizing the truth that I have some feminine aspects of my personality that I enjoy, the overwhelming truth of my life is this deep burning desire to be read and treated as male, and to have a masculine body. For me this is not a matter of wishing I were a boy, as I once thought – instead, it is a need to look in the mirror and have the person staring back at me reflect how I view my internal self, and that is masculine.
Into the Unknown
So those are my truths. But how far I want to go in my medical transition is a question that remains unanswered (and saved for another post). For now, I use the term queer when describing my identity to others, because I find its lack of hard lines and boundaries liberating. When I was brainstorming a name for this blog (on which I plan to record my journey) I struggled again with how to describe my life. Finally I decided that it didn’t matter what anybody else thought of me, or what they think I am, all that mattered was that I was true to myself. And that is why I describe my transition as female-to-me. Other people may be comfortable with other labels, but for me, the end goal of my transition is to feel comfortable in my own skin, to see ME when I look in the mirror. I need to spend less time worrying about identity labels and more time worrying about making myself happy. And I know masculinizing my body will make me happy.
When I ask myself the same questions I brought up at the beginning of this post, the answers come up the same no matter how many times I ask them – who am I? (I’m just ME) How do I see myself? (masculine of center) How do I want others to see me? (male)
As anxious as it might make me, I know that part of life is embracing the unknown, and doing what both scares and excites you. This is why I am so sure that the right decision for me is to start low dose testosterone (assuming my doctor agrees this is appropriate). I do not know what the future holds for me, but I am confident that in time I will find my true self. This is my beginning.
femaletome 